CHAPTER IITHE RIFLED SAFE
Lateron, in the small hours, the young couple had a furthertête-à-tête. The members of the family had done their duty by their several guests, and were at leisure to follow their own inclinations for a while.
A celebrated violinist played the opening notes of a wailing melody—the best of its kind was always a feature of the entertainments at Deanery Street—and at the sound, Richard exchanged a meaning glance with his sweetheart. Quietly they stole away to a secluded corner where they could whisper away to their hearts’ content, and were safe from interruption.
“Do you find it so difficult to screw up your courage to the sticking point, you silly old Dick?” asked the girl presently in a low voice, pursuing a conversation that had been proceeding for some little time.
The young man smiled; the smile was a little rueful and apologetic. “To tell the truth, my darling, I do. When I think of it in cold blood, it seems such a daring thing to do.”
“‘Faint heart’—you know the rest,” said the girl, in a bantering voice. “Well, Dick, if you can’t manage it, I shall have to throw my maidenly modesty to the winds, and undertake it myself. I am not afraid of my uncle, if you are.”
“But from my point of view, dear, you must admit it wants a lot of pluck. A poor devil of a fellow with a couple of hundred a year of his own, asking a millionaire to consent to a marriage with a niece whom he is going to make his heiress. Wouldn’t ninety-nine men out of a hundred kick me out of the house in double quick time?”
The smile on Rosabelle’s charming face grew sunnier than ever. “But first of all, we will say, and it is the truth, that he is the hundredth, not one of the ninety-nine. And then, it isn’t as if he didn’t know. I don’t think we have kept our little secret very much to ourselves, have we, Dick?”
“I am not so sure that he does know,” answered the still doubting lover. “He is always so frightfully absorbed in his business, I think it uses up allhis faculties. We know we are in love with each other, but I doubt if the fact is so patent to everybody as you think, my darling.”
“Rubbish!” cried the girl pertly. “Don’t you make any mistake about Uncle Rupert being so wrapt up in business that he doesn’t observe anything outside. Why, those keen eyes of his never let the most trivial thing escape them. And I have often seen them resting on us with a very intelligent expression. Take my word for it, Dick, he knows what is going on, and he approves. You know how swiftly he puts his foot down when he has a mind to. If he disapproved, he would soon give me a very strong hint, or if he did not care to speak to me himself, I should soon have a serious warning from auntie.”
Young Croxton was greatly encouraged by these words. He had a firm belief in his sweetheart’s judgment and powers of penetration.
“That settles it then,” he said, speaking in a much more confident tone. “I will tackle him to-morrow. I want to get it settled before we go away to Mürren. Oh, my darling, if it is all right, as you think, shan’t we have a lovely holiday?”
She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “And, as for all that nonsense about having no money, why, I have no money either to speak of. You have two hundred a year of your own, I have a hundred. Well, Dick, if we were very wilful, I daresay we might be brave enough to start on that, even if the worst were to happen. But there, don’t let us think of that; I tell you it is going to be all right.”
He returned the affectionate squeeze she had given him with interest. “By Jove, you do put courage into a fellow, little girl.”
“Not so little, if you please, Dick. I am rather above the average height, you know. And if he is going to make me his heiress, as you think, he doesn’tintend to leave you in the cold. He has treated you like a son from the day you first came into the house. Everybody knows how he worshipped your mother, and kept single all those years because of her. I do not say he is not fond of auntie in a steady, quiet way. But his other love was the sort that comes once in a lifetime, and never again.” She bent her head very close and whispered shyly in his ear. “He loved your mother, Dick, in the way that you and I love each other, and of course he loves her son for her sake.”
And after such a declaration, it is small wonder that these devoted young lovers, knowing they were safe from observation, testified their affection for each other in a long caress.
Later on, when the last car had rolled away, and the somewhat weary host and hostess were alone, a brief conversation took place between them on the subject of the young couple. It was begun by Mrs. Morrice.
“You still approve of it, Rupert?” It was evident from these words that the matter had been discussed between them before. “Remember that Rosabelle is a very pretty girl, as well as a charming one, and will have plenty of lovers in time.”
By these remarks it might be inferred that if Mrs. Morrice did not offer actual opposition, she was quite ready to take a neutral attitude in the matter.
Her husband did not beat about the bush in the least, he was always a man who spoke out his mind unhesitatingly.
“Yes, I have thought it well out. If he is the man of Rosabelle’s fancy, and everything points that way, I am quite willing he should marry her. The moment he asks for my consent he shall have it.”
Mrs. Morrice heaved a gentle little sigh. “I know how fond you are of Richard, that you could hardly be fonder of him if he were your own son. Well,I own I am just a little sorry that her choice did not fall upon Archie. It is not to be wondered at, for he is to me what Richard Croxton is to you.”
Mr. Morrice frowned ever so slightly at the suggestion, but he turned away his face quickly so that his wife should not see it. He had wasted his heart upon Richard’s mother, and he could never give another woman what he had given to her. But he was fond of his wife, he appreciated her charm, her good qualities, the help she gave him in the social side of his life, and he would not have pained her for the world.
“If Rosabelle had set her heart upon Archie,” he said gravely, “I cannot say for certain what my attitude would have been. I should have hated to make her miserable, and yet—and yet I could not have approved. I am glad that things are as they are. Archie has his good qualities, no doubt; he is pleasant and amiable; I daresay he would make a good husband. But, forgive me if I speak a little too plainly, he is an incurable idler, and much too fond of pleasure—I could not bear to see her married to a man of that stamp.”
There was a little quiver in the wife’s voice as she replied: “Are you not just a little too hard upon poor Archie, Rupert? Remember, he has not had the advantages of Richard’s training. If he had had you for a tutor, how different he would have been. My brother-in-law is not an ideal guardian of youth. An idler himself by the accident of birth, and I fear by inclination, he does not see the necessity for work in others.”
The great financier, whose life was one long strenuous working day, from choice not necessity, shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, his uncle will leave him his money, that seems understood, and therefore Archie has no need to work for a subsistence. But I should think betterof him if he took up some occupation, if only as a hobby. Nothing saps a man’s character like the idle loafing life he is leading now.”
There was a note of bitterness in Mrs. Morrice’s voice as she replied to those uncompromising remarks.
“It is not at all certain that some day Archie will not have to work for a living.”
Morrice looked at his wife in some surprise. “But Sir George is credited with being a well-off man. You have told me the same yourself.”
“He is well off perhaps now. But whether he dies rich or not will depend upon what the gaming table and the race-course have left him.”
Mr. Morrice pursed his lips, and his face grew very hard. It wore the look that some of those who knew him in business dreaded to see. Upright and of iron resolution himself, he had small pity for the weak and self-indulgent. Above all, he loathed men who had made ducks and drakes of their money, who threw it away in unprofitable enterprises.
“I own that I have heard some rumours of this, that he bets too highly, that he plays for too big stakes,” he said presently. “Well, it would be a good thing if Master Archie could be removed from such a corrupting influence.”
“Would to heaven that he could be.” There was a note of almost anguish in the woman’s voice as she spoke, then she recovered herself quickly, and added in a calmer tone: “But it is too late. His uncle worships him, and he is devoted to his uncle.”
The morning came. Mr. Morrice was not going to his business house; a client was calling on him in Deanery Street, and after that visit had been paid, he was going to a jeweller’s in the West End for a certain purpose. He had lately purchased some very fine and expensive diamonds, which he had put awayin readiness for an important event—the birthday of his wife falling a week hence. He was going to have these made up into a necklace and present it to her upon the happy occasion. Like most women, she was passionately fond of jewels, and though she already had plenty, he knew she would be delighted to add to her store.
The client who was paying him a visit was coming to receive a large sum of money, a million francs, which the financier had put for safe custody in that wonderful safe to which allusion has been made.
Morrice and Richard breakfasted alone that morning at an early hour, while the ladies stayed in bed to recover from the fatigue of the previous evening.
Neither of the men spoke much during the progress of the meal. The financier’s busy brain was at work upon his various schemes, and he had almost forgotten that conversation a few hours earlier with his wife concerning her brother-in-law and Archie Brookes.
Young Croxton was very preoccupied too. This was the day on which, fortified by the encouraging counsels of his sweetheart, he had resolved to screw up his courage and ask Morrice’s consent to his betrothal to Rosabelle.
The two men from time to time looked at their watches, and at last the elder rose with a quick, alert movement.
“It wants five minutes, Dick. Let us be going.” They went into Morrice’s study, a spacious room, solidly furnished. In a corner stood a big safe, from which, when the actual time arrived, they were going to take the packet of French notes and the loose diamonds. Two days previously they had shifted them to an easily accessible spot.
They stood before the formidable-looking receptacle, watches in hand, and then with a simultaneous exclamation of “Now!” from each, Morrice and hisconfidential secretary inserted their two separate keys. The heavy door swung back, the financier advanced his hand to the spot where the articles had been placed, and drew back with a cry of dismay.
The packet of French notes, the canvas bag containing the loose diamonds, had been removed from their hiding place, also a parcel of private papers containing important secrets.